


Trespass Against

by AraSigyrn



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Betrayal, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Post-Canon, references to non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:07:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27263248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AraSigyrn/pseuds/AraSigyrn
Summary: Kink-meme fill.Booker betrayed more than just the fact of their immortality.A hundred years of exile would have allowed Nicky to forget but when Booker returns after only two, Nicky is left alone with pain of that betrayal.  But secrets in this modern age don't keep.This is what happened next.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 38
Kudos: 353





	1. Trespass Against

"I do not know this man," Joe's voice rings with sorrow and conviction both. "Where is my Nicky with his heart large enough to encompass the whole world?"

Nile and Andy do not speak but their expressions are eloquent. Nicky is alone. Again. He licks his lips, tastes the gunmetal and the face that flickers behind his blink is barely human. Nicky raises his hands and lowers his gaze. He cannot look at Booker though the other man's presence takes all the air from his lungs. Nicky feels his stomach clench.

He spends the night on his knees, praying softly to the Virgin Mother for forgiveness. He keeps his gun by his side and every sound makes his heart leap within his chest. His thoughts are a tangle of memory and fear. It has been a very long time since Nicky was afraid. He fears the seconds after Joe dies every time but that is a fleeting thing. He fears Andy's mortality and fears for Nile's innocence but those are comfortable fears. Nicky trusts his love. Andy said herself that life had become wearisome and Nile is a good woman who knows there is evil and does not let it enter her heart.

Nicky is the softest of them. The weakest. 

Two hundred years as a brother, erased utterly by the actions of a wicked man and seven words, spoken in anger.

"Couldn't last an hour away from Joe?"

Nicky is weak. Nicky has been loved for so long by the best man that God ever created that he had forgotten how easily sex can be turned to cruelty. He sees the man's face, twisted to reveal the monster beneath behind his eyelids every time he blinks. His body has healed but the memory lingers like the scars that would have remained for a mortal man. Nicky hears the voices in the silence and he cannot bear even Joe's touch.

He rises from his knees stiffly and makes breakfast for the others. He does not make the omelette that he would have made for Booker before Merrick. Booker comes to the table and his face falls. Joe shakes his head reprovingly.

" _You are better than this,_ " he chides Nicky in their private dialect as he crosses behind him to take his place at the stove. " _Such childishness!_ "

Nicky grits his teeth and edges to the door, keeping the table between him and Booker. Nile looks at him with reproach in her eyes. Andy studies him over the rim of her cup. Nicky does not give them the chance to speak. He goes upstairs, takes out the rifle he keeps there and addresses himself to cleaning it. Most of his knighthood has fallen away but Nicky still finds comfort in the routine.

The following days are as close an approximation of Hell as Nicky can imagine.

The irony is enough to bring laughter to his lips but Nicky swallows it down. He has lived for a thousand years. He has seen every war that mankind has promised will be the last. He has seen humans twisted into demons by hate and fear. He has died by every method man can concieve of and suffered a hundred lifetimes worth of torture. This too shall pass.

It was passing, Nicky knows. He might not see the beauty that Joe sees in his mirror but he has drawn the eye and the ire of men who desire to dominate other men. It is rare. Joe does not usually allow them to be seperated.

Nicky still knows what to do when it happens. He cannot add to Joe's hurt; his love burns with every bruise on Nicky's too-tender skin. Nicky prays, makes his pain an offering to the All-Mighty and stays a little closer, where Joe's warmth can banish the chill of crueler hands.

Nicky cannot seek comfort with Joe. His love is too busy with Booker and Nicky cannot bear to be in the same room for more than minutes at a time. He cannot look at Booker's face without hearing the taunts of the men. 

_What did you tell them?_ Nicky rages when their eyes catch over maps or new supplies. _How much did you tell them? How much were you watching over all those decades we spent together? How much did you listen to in those nights that Joe and I thought we were alone in the world?_

He says nothing.

Joe's eyes are filled with sorrow and his love touches him only at night, in the dark as if they were back in the ignorant days when two men who loved each other were a dangerous thing to be. Andy frowns at him and her voice takes on an edge that cuts him to the marrow. She is disappointed in him. Her orders get crisper every time Nicky balks at Booker's presence. She does not understand why Nicky flinches every time Booker moves.

"We agreed," Andy tells him when they wait in the car for the others to finish in a warehouse of stolen drugs. "He's family."

"Si," Nicky's voice catches in his throat. "Yes."

"You can't keep punishing him," Andy says sharply. "Joe and I have forgiven him."

 _So you have no grounds to complain._ Nicky hears it as clearly as if she had spoken it aloud. He wavers, all his pain and fear bubbling up, but Andy's expression is hard as marble and her eyes are pitiless. Nicky cannot find the words in the face of Andromache of Scythia. Andy might love her younger brothers and offer them comfort but she is also an expert at triage. Mercy for those in sorest need. Expectations for the rest.

It is Nile who wounds him most.

She follows Nicky out of the safehouse after an argument with Joe threatened to become physical violence for the first time in nearly eight hundred years. Joe is afire with righteousness. Nicky is nearly hysterical at the idea that while Nicky was struggling to put the broken pieces of himself back together, Joe had been calling Booker. Nicky goes to the local church and she finds him on his knees before a statue of the Baptist with his well-worn rosary in his hands. Nile sits with him in a nearby pew. She talks to him earnestly while Nicky struggles not to hyperventilate.

"I just," she touches the cross that she still wears around her neck. "You told me that you were still Christian. That means forgiveness, you know? Turn the other cheek?"

"I know," Nicky says. " _Spiacente_ , Nile. I will do better."

He had followed his God and his Faith to the edge of the known world. Nicky does what he must; he pushes all the fear and the pain down. He does what his love expects of him. He does not flinch when Booker speaks to him. He does not rush to finish the mission so he can breathe without those mournful eyes on him. He does what he is told to do. 

It is hard. Harder than abandoning his faith. Harder than walking the streets of Genoa as a stranger. Harder than reading the small brass plate in the church that told of his brother's death from the plague. Nicky endures but he has no appetite for food. He cannot soften his heart for fear of what will come pouring out. He sleeps poorly so he sleeps for longer. He learns not to need Joe's arms around him. He trains with Nile, teaches her what he can and puts his focus into the missions.

Nicky is still only a man.

He does not go with Booker into situations where he must die. Nicky's strength is a brittle thing and Death will shatter it. If Nicky wakes with Booker there, he will scream until his throat is bloody and he dies again. If Nicky starts to scream, he does not think that he will ever stop.

What hurts most, Nicky thinks in the dead hours of the early morning when he is the only one awake, is that no-one notices. 

Joe is still devoting the greater part of his time to easing the pain that made Booker betray them. He does not seek to touch Nicky beyond the occasional kiss and his arms around Nicky at night. Andy sees only that they are functional. Perhaps she is preoccupied with her new mortality? Perhaps she too is concerned with healing Booker's pain. Nile does not know him so Nile does not know that Nicky is not usually so quiet nor so reserved. She is kind. Nicky wishes she would stop. Her kindness makes his precarious control fray like a torn shirt and Nicky cannot afford to unravel.

Two years after Booker returns to them, Copley meets with the team.

Nicky has not seen him since just after Merrick's death. There has not been a need. Andy and Joe are the strategists. Nile is the expert in the modern technologies. Nicky has been the unruly child, kept away from the mortals. He has not fought his punishment. He cannot spare the energy to care for such a trifling insult. His heart is shattered already. Does it matter if it is in two pieces or a thousand? Nicky follows Nile to the meeting and stays on his feet with his hood drawn to shadow his face.

Copley hands the information over to Nile but his eyes stray to Nicky after every other sentence. Once he loses track of his tongue and apologizes to Nile. Nile waves it off but she starts looking back at Nicky too. Nicky does not wonder why. He is too busy cataloguing how long the mission will take. Joe wants to take Booker to the Louvre. There is an exhibit of Napoleanic art, Nicky dimly recalls. He returns to the present moment when Copley rises to his feet.

Nicky pushes off the wall. Nile is collecting the pages Copley printed for them. She is taking longer than she should. Nicky does not get a chance to ponder long. Copley stops in front of him. No, Copley stops three feet away from Nicky. Well outside the boundaries of Nicky's personal space. The hand that reaches towards Nicky's wrist falters and Copley pats his forearm instead.

"I wanted to talk to you, actually," Copley says, looking over his shoulder at Nile.

The man is as subtle as a brick to the face. A part of Nicky thinks that it is just as well that he practices his deceit from behind a computer screen. He has too honest a face for treachery. Nicky inclines his head and Nile makes a show of getting to her feet and stepping past them to the door.

"I wanted..." Copley wrings his hands. Nicky blinks at him. There is anguish on the man's face. "I wanted to tell you in person."

"Si?" Nicky is lost.

"The, uh, the 'footage'," Copley says, spitting the word like a curse. "That Merrick's thugs took?"

Nicky does not understand for a long second. Then he remembers; a face lit by a screen: a laugh he could only see because all he could hear was the grunting of the men who pinned him down. His legs almost fail him, he reaches blindly for the wall.

"I destroyed it," Copley says in a rush, hands hovering like he wants to catch Nicky but doesn't dare to touch him. "All of it. I burned the backup discs myself."

"Grazie," Nicky manages. He cannot force English from his tongue. He is shaking now.

"I don't know," Copley looks as anguished as Nicky feels. "I don't know what to do. I could find you a therapist? Or a counselor?"

"Is nothing," Nicky says. He can't breathe. He needs to get out of here. He needs to go. (He needs Joe, his broken heart wails.)

"No-one else saw it," Copley says. "I didn't watch it. Not past the first minute. I saw your face and..."

Nicky shakes his head. "It does not matter. I should have fought better, that is all."

"There were five of them!" Copley half-shouts then falters as Nicky flinches back. "You might be immortal, Nicolò. You're not invulnerable."

"It does not matter," Nicky repeats. His eyes sting. His chest is tight.

"I don't know how you forgave him," Copley says and Nicky's laugh is a broken thing. "I would have killed him."

"Waste of effort," Nicky says. "He did not...He just..."

"He just told them about you," Copley says with all the steel Nicky could wish for. "I heard some of what they said. They knew how to hurt you."

Nicky's legs fail him. He struggles to breathe. There is a wet, miserable lump in his throat. Like a stone forced past the muscle. Nicky thinks he will be sick. He cannot think. He cannot hold himself together. He hears his name. Copley's voice becomes Nile's. He hears Andy? Nicky tries to force the lump back. He tries to stand. He tries to open his eyes and he cannot. All he can hear is those men and Copley's words repeating on a loop. He cannot scream past the lump in his throat.

"Nicky! Nicky!" Joe's voice cuts through the panic. "Nicky! Habibi! Breathe!"

The voice that vibrates against his cheek is as familiar as his own breath and the arms that catch him up are as close to paradise as can be found on this sinful Earth. Nicky's failing control shatters and he howls against his love's chest. Time loses meaning. All Nicky knows is that Joe is there. He is safe.


	2. As You Forgive

Joe's phone goes as he finishes the last of his ridiculously expensive cappuccino. He sees Nile's face flash up on the screen even as he hits accept. "Done alre-?"

"Joe, you need to come here," Nile's breath catches in something like a sob. "Now. Right now, Joe."

"What is it?" Joe pushes away from the table, barely sparing a nod for the others as he hurries through the door. The office building that Copley is using for his current headquarters is sterile and anonymous. No-one challenges Joe as he ducks into an elevator and hits the button for the top floor. "Nile, what is happening?"

"I don't-" her breath hitches again. "You have to hurry. Nicky-you have to hurry."

"I am coming," he says but then the doors open and Joe drops his phone. Nicky is howling like a damned soul, a horrible keening wail that Joe has not heard since the rubble of Jerusalem's walls. He sprints down the corridor and throws open the office door. Nile and Copley spin to stare at him but Joe barges past them, eyes only for the man curled in on himself in the corner.

"Nicky! Nicky, my love," Joe's touch makes Nicky curl tighter, duck his head further into the cradle of his arms. Joe calls his name again and Nicky sobs, a wretched desperate sound. Joe can only stand so much and he draws Nicky into his arms. (When had Nicky gotten so thin? He feels ethereal, insubstantial in Joe's embrace.) "Habibi! Breathe for me! I am here! I have you!"

Nicky moans, clutches cruelly at his hair until Joe can tug his hands away. He is weeping, eyes more red than blue and he does not see Joe. Joe can only hold him close and try to soothe him. He nearly weeps himself when Nicky's hand clutches at his shirt but he fights to keep his voice even. He can be strong for his love. "Breathe. I am here. I have you."

Nicky compresses himself, tries to become smaller and Joe feels his heart tear. Nicky is still making those awful sounds, his pain shuddering through them both and Joe can only cling to his love, keep speaking these truths until Nicky knows that Joe is here and he is safe. He is unforgivably clumsy; Nicky has not been reduced to this state in nearly four hundred years. Joe has forgotten how to reach him.

"I am here," he repeats and Nicky's sobbing sounds like his name. "I have you. Breathe, only breathe for me, my beloved. I am here. I have you."

As if his idle thought had summoned her, Quỳnh appears at the door with Andy barely half a step before her. Joe shakes his head urgently. Seeing her would only unmoor Nicky further, shatter his trust in what is real. He swallows the thick guilt that collects on the back of his tongue. He should have told Nicky as soon as she found them. He had pretended that he feared Nicky would blame her for not coming back directly as he blames Booker for falling into despair. It had been childish and oh, how he regrets it now.

Joe rocks Nicky back and forth as this grief, this pain, shreds his beloved to pieces and curses himself for an infantile fool. He chokes on his apologies. This is not the time. Nicky will not understand and apologies are not something he can process when he breaks like this. Joe's regret must wait. Nicky's voice is ravaged, barely a whisper and his body shakes as much with exhaustion as emotion. 

Andy hovers over them, face like a marble sculpture but eyes dark and haunted. She remembers. Joe sees her glance to the door where Quỳnh lingers. Nile is clutching at Andy's hand, seeking comfort instinctively from their leader. Copley is standing to the side, eyes on Nicky and Joe holds his love closer, glaring at this man who thinks he knows them. He cannot let his anger loose either but oh, it burns!

He sees movement over Quỳnh's shoulder. Booker looks guilt-stricken as he does so often these days. Joe does not have time to indulge him. Not with Nicky's ravaged breath against his neck and his love's distress still inconsolable. Copley follows his gaze and the man's expression shifts to rage.

"Oh no," he surges forward. "Haven't you done enough? Out! Get out!"

Andy turns but keeps Nicky in her line of sight. Copley is furious, the cold steady fury that turns men into unstoppable machines of war and death. Joe does not understand and sees no understanding in her face. She gestures sharply and Quỳnh hauls Booker back from the door. Nicky whimpers, a low defeated sound as his body succumbs to the stress of his emotions. His eyes close and he slumps into Joe. Joe pets his hair, whispers promises to him in all the languages that they share and wipes his own wet eyes on his sleeve.

"What happened?" Andy's words are harsh. 

"What did you do to him!?" Joe's snarl is rooted in the memories of Sudan, of waking to find his love bound to a bed and helpless in the hands of monsters that hurt him. If he were free to move, Copley would be dead already. He gathers Nicky closer still, ever mindful of his love's tight-clenched grip.

"I, I just wanted..." Copley looks at Nicky again and his expression becomes something else. Pity and the sort of empathy that is its own kind of torture. "Merrick's thugs...they recorded it. I wanted him to know I'd destroyed the footage."

"Merrick?" Andy pales and her free hand reaches out. Joe watches her thumb brush a tear from Nicky's cheek. "I thought all the records were already destroyed."

"All the medical records, the video from Sudan, all of that was destroyed," Copley's eyes keep straying back to where Nicky's face is hidden against Joe's throat. "This was...different."

"Different how?" Quỳnh demands. She is watching Copley with the narrow focus of a hunting wolf.

"It..." Copley looks sick. "It wasn't...'officially' sanctioned. I mean, I assume the little toad knew about it."

"What 'it'?" Andy snaps. "Stop dancing around!"

"It, uh, the-the assault?" Copley says, eyes flickering from Andy to Nile to Joe to linger on Nicky. "You did know about the assault, didn't you?"

Joe's blood turns to ice in his veins. Andy staggers back a step as if physically struck. Nile's hands fly to her mouth and she spins to stare down at Nicky with horror in her eyes. It is a poor echo of the horror festering in Joe's chest. Andy meets his eyes and her hand tightens around Nile's.

"I..." Joe gathers Nicky closer still. "He was awake before me. I don't know how long we were out. It didn't...I never thought...I assumed he woke just before me."

"A couple of hours before you," Copley says, "judging by the timestamps and the size of the files."

Joe has tried not to dwell on their time in the laboratory. There was no point; what was there to remember aside from Booker's betrayal and more pain? He had thought that the worst of what was done to them. Andy's vulnerability and Nile's rescue had overtaken his focus. Nicky had not missed a beat. He would not, would he? His love is nothing if not loyal to those he loves. Joe presses a kiss to his love's disheveled hair and rocks them both to keep the grief from spilling forth.

"Do we have names?" Andy demands, turning on Copley again.

"None of them survived your...exit strategy," Copley says. "I triple-checked. You shot most of them. Keane...well, you killed him too."

Joe feels no triumph when Copley tells him this, only regret that he had not killed them slower. Andy's face falls and she turns back to look down at Nicky. Nile scrubs the tears from her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket. Joe's own eyes sting but he cannot spare a hand to wipe them clear. Nile swallows, throat working even as she stares down at Nicky who is a too-light weight in Joe's protective embrace. 

"Why are you angry?" Quỳnh's tone is deceptively mild. Joe knows that tone from a thousand brawls and riots. She has a knife in her hand and all of her focus is on Copley who is wise enough to edge backwards. "With le Livre. Why are you angry with him?"

Booker himself cringes away from her and his eyes are haunted when he looks at Nicky. Copley's expression turns to stone. His hands close into fists and for a second it seems like he forgets the others are present. Then Copley shakes his head and turns sharply away from Booker to face Andy.

"I didn't watch the whole thing," Copley looks nauseated, swallowing as he stares into nothing. "I ...it was obscene, brutal. I couldn't...I didn't watch it all. I couldn't watch more than a few minutes and I only lasted that long because I wanted to be sure you'd killed them all."

There's a fervour in Copley's voice that makes Joe distantly glad and immediately ashamed. It is good that his Nicky had such a champion when his own family were failing so badly in their duty to protect him. A deeper part of him snarls that Copley should not have been the one to guard Nicky's heart, it should have been Joe who hunted down the memories of those monsters. He cups the back of Nicky's head, remembering the sticky feeling of dry blood and brain matter and kisses his love's still furrowed brow.

"The stuff they were saying to him..." Copley shakes his head. "The expression on his face... They kept taunting him about Hamburg, telling him he enjoyed it in Lyon..."

Joe's blood stills in his veins. He turns his head to stare at Booker who looks like he did in that damned laboratory but without even that flimsy justification to excuse him. Andy winces away as Copley continues to talk of memories he does not have any right to know. Nile's expression as the reality of what Booker did, what Booker said to those men who took Nicky and hurt him, sets in is horror and the same miserable guilt that wraps around Joe's heart.

"'ana asif," he whispers, clutching his love close as if he can protect Nicky from this violation. "Oh, my poor love. I am so sorry."

Quỳnh does not know most of the incidents; they were after her time. She knows Nicky and she knows Joe however and Andy's expression as she looks at Booker tells the rest of the story clearly enough. She spins and drives her knife into Booker's throat. Joe hears his body hit the ground. Quỳnh kicks him, spitting a string of impassioned curses and kicking him again until Andy pulls her away. Nile barely spares Booker a glance, all her attention on Nicky.

"Dispiace," she whispers. "Fuck, Nicky, I'm so fucking sorry."

Joe wants to weep. Joe wants to find everyone of those men, in whatever level of hell they are in and kill them again and again until the awful rage in his belly is quenched. He pushes those self-indulgent thoughts from his mind. He has no time for such self-indulgence. Nicky does not need his rage. Nicky needs his love and his understanding. Joe clears his throat roughly. Andy and Quỳnh stop arguing long enough to look around.

"We need to go," Joe says. "I need to take Nicky home."

"I'll bring the car around," Nile says, taking the keys from his pocket.

"Grazie, Nile," Joe offers her the best smile he can muster. Andy and Quỳnh come to his side and help him to stand. It is disturbingly easy to lift Nicky; easier than it should be. He swallows the keening grief that wants to erupt from his throat. Nicky's hand is still tightly fisted in Joe's shirt and he feels something break at the sight. That Nicky, who Joe has used so cruelly and hurt so much, should cling to him still even in unconsciousness... 

He does not know what Andy says to Copley nor what is done with Booker. Quỳnh goes with them to the ground floor, one hand on Nicky's back until she must open the back door of the SUV to help them in. In natural light, Nicky looks so much more pale than Joe remembers, the sharp angle of his cheeks a rebuke in themselves and Joe shakes with the force of his grief. He has seen Nicky wounded in every way that human flesh can be wounded and he knows the signs now that his pride no longer blinds him. Quỳnh, who is kinder to him than he deserves, gets into the passenger seat.

Nile pulls out into the moderate traffic and drives in silence for a few minutes. Joe sees her eyes in the rearview mirror and the guilt he sees makes his heart ache in new and interesting ways.

"I didn't know," Nile says.

"He did not want us to know," Joe says. It is no comfort to him. "It has happened before."

"You get that's not actually comforting, right?"

"Nicky has always been the kindest of us," Quỳnh says. "The world has always been full of men who think that being so kind means that he is weak."

It is as close to absolution as she will grant, Joe knows. She does twist in her seat to stroke Nicky's hair back from his face. Joe allows it because Nicky would allow it. Even in the worst of his torment, Nicky prefers his family close. 

"It did not happen very often," Quỳnh says. "We did not allow it."

"We did not," Joe agrees.

"Still not actually comforting to hear," Nile says without heat. "I, just, I...I told him that forgiveness was the Christian thing?"

Quỳnh laughs.

"I didn't know!" Nile appeals to Joe. "I thought it was...was just the lab, you know?"

"I know," Joe says. "Do you think I would have been so eager to have him back if I had known this? A thousand years would not have been long enough. I would have killed him until his blood drowned us both if I had known."

Too much anger, Nicky flinches even in his unconscious state and Joe breaks off to soothe him. Quỳnh is still watching him with blank eyes. He is not forgiven. He will not be forgiven, Joe knows, until Nicky himself asks her to relent. Joe cannot bring himself to care. He will never forgive himself for this failure. It is only right that he should be punished.

"You could not have known," he says because Nicky loves Nile as his treasured little sister and he would want to ease her pain. "You did not know the signs. I should have known better. A thousand years, he has been my heart and I did not see his distress. I did not think!"

"Joe," Nile starts.

"I did not think!" Joe repeats with all the venom he can muster. "My love, my Nicolò who has more compassion than the world can conceive of: who forgives his enemy as soon as they falter. The man who forgave me for killing him a thousand and one times when he killed me only nine hundred times. I did not think that he would not forgive where I could unless there was more that I did not see! I dared to reproach him, I! I who of all the world should know better!"

"Joe!"

"Yusuf!" Quỳnh snaps. "You are wallowing. Stop at once!"

"Nicky wouldn't want you to blame yourself," Nile says more gently. 

"Yes," Joe sighs deeply. "You are right."

"You must be strong for him," Quỳnh agrees. "He will bury this again if he thinks it will ease your pain. The wound must be clean or it will fester."

"I know," Joe says. "I will be strong. I will make this right if it takes the next thousand years."

He presses this promise into the crown of Nicky's head. He will be what Nicky has needed him to be. Nothing is more important than that.


	3. Their Trespasses

Andy watches through the window until she sees the SUV with the others pull into the street. Behind her, she hears the wet, choked sounds of Booker starting to breathe. The impulse to stab him again is sharp but she pushes it aside. It will achieve nothing, she reminds herself, aside from making Copley's life difficult and the man does not deserve that, not for what he has done. She cannot bring herself to look at Booker, the old madness boiling in her blood.

_He hurt Nicky,_ runs through her mind on an endless loop and her fury threatens to burst forth in a tempest of violence.

She hears Copley's step on the carpet, the squeak of his desk drawer and the clink of glasses being set down on the glass top. She turns at that and sees him pulling a bottle of whiskey from the small filing cabinet. He holds it up, waits for her nod and then pours a generous measure into each of the three glasses. He pushes one to the side, towards where Booker is jerking and twitching back to life. He's barely halfway back to intact; Quỳnh always did know how to make it hurt. Andy can think that now, even _now_ of all times, and smile. Copley leans a little further away from her smile but it is still a smile.

She snags the nearest glass, brings it to her lips and drains the whole thing. Copley proves he is an intelligent man and refills her glass before he takes up his own. He only sips at his. There is a short silence, broken only by the meaty squelch of Booker's throat knitting together.

"So," Copley says as he turns to look at her. "You didn't know?"

"No," Andy shakes her head and feels every one of the seasons she has lived through in her very bones. "He never told us."

"Ah."

She bares her teeth at him. "Nicky is...private about such things. You would not understand."

"It's happened before then, I take it?"

"Yes," Andy's mouth twists and she spits on the ground, cursing those brutes in the name of the oldest, most wicked Gods she knows. "Nicky is... Well, you have eyes."

"I prefer the fairer sex," Copley says dryly, "but I have working eyes. He's a very attractive man."

"Beautiful," Andy corrects. "He is beautiful."

"I can see it," Copley admits. "But you only have to see him with Joe-"

"Yes," she says harshly but she is thinking of how there has been no Joe-and-Nicky for the last two years. Only Joe with Nicky barely even a shadow in the room. She balls up a fist and punches the wall hard enough to crack a knuckle. Her still-sluggish healing leaves her with the bright clarity of pain to clear her thoughts. She cannot believe that they did not see it. How had they not seen it? How had she, so proud of her greater age and the imagined wisdom of her longer years, not seen the brother of her heart bleeding out every day from their harsh words and their blindness?!

"Those two," Copley shakes his head. "I always thought it was a good relationship if it lasted longer than your lifetime."

"They have been like that since before I met them," Andy says. "I only know their history because we dreamed of them."

"Fascinating," is all Copley says.

"Nicky is the kindest of us," Andy says. "The sweetest. He fights like a holy warrior when he must fight but he is very bad at hatred. He only hates those who hurt his love, or his family."

"That must be frustrating," Copley says and there's an invitation in his carefully blank expression. He isn't one of them but he knows enough that Andy can speak her mind.

"There have always been men," she considers, "and women, though women did not have the power to take what they wanted from him by force very often, who have seen Nicky's beauty and his love for Joe and wanted to hurt him for it."

She's never understood it; beauty is not a thing that one can own. Nicky's beauty is a treasure that she enjoys simply by being around him. She is not deprived because Quỳnh or Nile sees it also.

"Joe is like a tempest," she says and this feels more like betrayal but Andy is so angry at him in this moment that she does not care. "He has a poet's tongue and he has never been shy about using it. He makes enemies as easily as friends, just by existing and you only have to see them together to know..."

"Hurt Nicky and you hurt Joe," Copley shrugs a shoulder. "I knew that, from my research and from spending a minute in their company."

"Yes," Andy says. "We do not let it happen if we can prevent it. It...wounds him."

"Wounds him," Copley echoes.

"Nicky's heart is too soft for it," Andy says, the words bitter on her tongue. "Quỳnh and I are too old, we've seen this too many times to let it touch us. Joe...it's like a passing storm. Rage and tears and then it's over, gone."

Copley's eyes drift to Booker and Andy snorts, taking another swig of her whiskey.

"He's never found out," she says dispassionately. "I doubt he'd have felt it before. More pickle than man."

Copley's snort isn't quite laughter. The undercurrents in this room are still too raw, Nicky's collapse too fresh for laughter. He sets his glass down with a heavy sigh. "It's a risk I never considered."

"Men don't," Andy says.

"Straight men don't," Copley fires back and she considers before tilting her head, allowing the point. "I knew Merrick liked to play at being a tough guy. I didn't know he'd managed to surround himself with actual monsters."

Andy remembers the doctor, the needles she'd stabbed into Nicky's skin with just too much force to be accidental. They let that doctor live, she remembers. They will have to correct that oversight when they have time. She says as much to Copley who nods slowly and does not argue.

"I'll see what I can find out," he promises.

"There will be no missions for a while," Andy warns him. "Nothing for the team. Not for a year, maybe two."

Copley proves again that he is an intelligent man and merely nods. "You have my number."

Andy nods and he finishes his whiskey and gets to his feet. He looks down at Booker who must be restored but is still huddled on the floor. Copley puts his glass back on his desk with a hard crack and turns back to Andy.

"I'll be in touch as soon as I have anything on Kozak," he promises and she nods. He takes his computer from the desk and steps over Booker without looking at him.

Andy takes another drink. Booker is weeping now, she thinks. He can't still be healing. Quỳnh is an expert with her knives but even she cannot do enough damage that Booker would not be healed by now. Andy says nothing to him. There is nothing she wishes to say. She takes her phone from her pocket and there is a message from Nile on the lock-screen.

' _Home safe._ '

Good. That is good. Nicky will wake back in a house that is as close to home as this city offers. He will have Joe and Quỳnh and Nile to soothe him. Andy wants to be there, to see her little brother awake and beg his pardon until she wears out her vocal cords.

She does not have that right. Not now.

Time has tempered Andy. She was never as kind as Nicky but the relentless eons have ground out what little pity she was capable of. Her mind replays a dozen conversations with Nicky, throws her frustration at his refusal to make nice back in her face and Andy feels tears in her eyes. She finishes her whiskey just as Booker levers himself to his feet.

He looks ruined, jarringly out of place amid the polished modernity of Copley's office. He looks like he did in Russia or in Paris when he came crawling back to the only family he had left. Andy feels no kindness to him this time but she does feel a bitter kinship.

Nicky is the heart of their family. When he is hurt like this, they all bleed. Andy has slit throats, poisoned wells and burned down houses to avenge her little brother and none of those deaths stir even the slightest remorse in her. If anyone else had hurt Nicky like this, Andy would have used every skill she had to kill them slowly and painfully. She very much wants to do so again.

She would do it with a smile and a song in her heart.

But how can she? How can she banish Booker, condemn him to a fate worse than Quỳnh's the way she wants so badly to do, without making a mockery of all Nicky sacrificed to keep their family intact? Nicky will blame himself and swallow his pain until it is too great to bear and he shatters again.

Andy has known him for a thousand years. She knows that he will not want Booker punished for this and Andy can refuse Nicky nothing. Especially not now.

So, Booker will live. Quỳnh will kill him again. More than once, if Andy knows her love. Andy might even exorcise her own rage on the man but she will do it later, when she knows Nicky is safe. She watches Booker stand, both hands clutching the edges of the desk. He's staring at the still-full glass and Andy's lip curls. Straight back into the bottle, she thinks.

She doesn't realize she said it aloud until Booker glares at her.

He is ugly when he cries, nose flushed dark red and puffy eyes like he'd been punched in them. He glares at her and Andy looks down her nose at him. Booker sweeps the glass from the desk and it hits the wall hard enough to explode, fragments sparkling in the air for a moment.

"JAMAIS!" Booker roars. "Never! Never again!"

His breath catches sharply and he buries his face in his hands, rocking back and forth as he weeps. Andy unscrews the whiskey and takes another drink. Booker lurches, tips forward and catches himself on the desk. He breathes noisily for a minute while Andy watches him dispassionately. Booker's hands close into fists and he spits a string of barely intelligible French spiced with some old Russian curses. Andy catches Merrick's name and Keane's before Booker thumps both fists on the table, hard enough that something cracks.

"Ruining Copley's office further is hardly going to endear you to him," Andy says.

"Fuck Copley!" Booker spits on the desk. "Fucking arrogant fucking bastard!"

Andy waits him out. His grief drowns his rage soon enough, leaving Booker sobbing like a child. He wipes at his face with his sleeves; a habit he picked up from Nicky that plucks at Andy's heartstrings with an archer's ruthless precision. He swallows roughly and stares down at himself, reflected in Copley's broken desk.

"I didn't know," he says. He doesn't look at her.

"Bullshit," Andy says, that seething killing rage rising like a tsunami in her belly.

"I didn't!" Booker insists. "I never knew they'd hurt Nicky like that. Do you think I'm fool enough to show my face if I had? Joe would have killed me."

"And you both would have been happy then," Andy sneers.

"No!" Booker closes his eyes. "I wanted release, relief! I never wanted Nicky hurt!"

"What did you think Merrick would do with all those stories you told him!?"

"I didn't think he'd do anything with those stories, I barely remember telling him half of them!" Booker snarls back. "I only met him a handful of times. Usually in bars, over trop...too many drinks. I wasn't thinking-!"

"Good," Andy tells him in a glacial tone. "Because if you thought...if you _planned_ this..."

"It's _Nicky_ ," Booker turns to face her and Andy jerks her gaze away from the ruin in his eyes. "I wouldn't...Andy, I would never have wanted to hurt him like that. Not Nicky."

The words hang between them and Andy breathes in through the iron bands around her ribs. Booker's never seen Nicky like this, she realizes. He's an infant, a child compared to them and Nicky's natural state is a loving serenity. Seeing him broken like that has torn the ground away from under Booker's feet. They don't talk about Merrick.

Nicky is the one who makes them talk things out and Nicky has been running from even the mention of Merrick since Booker came back. The rest of them have just left it to rot in the back of their heads, like perfume over a rotting cesspit. Like talking about Quỳnh, she thinks with a stab of a too-familiar grief. Like children in the dark, afraid to whisper for fear of drawing the attention of monsters. She is still angry with him for that; for using her weariness as an excuse to betray them all and for trying to divide their little family in two.

The punch takes them both by surprise. She feels his jaw break before he slams into the wall.

"That," she tells him in a voice as dead as her mother, "was for the argument in the laboratory."

Booker slurs something but Andy keeps talking.

"How dare you? How dare you presume for all of us that Merrick was a good man? How dare you trade our lives for your own selfishness!" The words spill out of her. "How dare you use my grief as an excuse to hurt Joe and Nicky like that! How dare you prize your suffering over their happiness! How fucking dare you use my loss to manipulate them!"

Booker falters, hand cradling his jaw and Andy kicks him hard enough that ribs break.

"How dare you tell that man, that jumped up little shit of a human being and all his stupid fucking cronies about Nicky?"

"I didn't mean it!" Booker shouts. Then he slumps to his knees. "I only meant...I wanted Merrick to understand."

"To understand?" Andy hisses through her teeth, fist rising.

"To understand how much pain a life like ours entails," Booker lifts shaking hands. "I wanted him to know how much it costs, why we wanted it to end!"

"You. Selfish. Piece. Of. Shit!" Andy breathes.

"Oui," Booker grimaces. It might have been intended as a smile. He looks pathetic, leaking blood, tears and snot down his face like this. Andy grabs the ornament/paperweight from the desk and smashes his skull in. She drops the dented paperweight into the bin beside the desk and runs her hands through her hair, forcing her breath to be even. She turns back to the window and stares out over the city until she can unclench her teeth.

She checks her phone as Booker heals again. Nile reports no change in Nicky. Andy is not surprised. He has never slept well without Joe beside him and Joe has been beside him so little lately. Nile also reports that Quỳnh is giving her bad vibes. Andy is not surprised. She texts Nile back to be polite and keep her distance. Nicky was Quỳnh's favourite as Joe was Andy's once upon a time. Quỳnh might have forgiven them for not finding her at last. Andy does not think Quỳnh will forgive them for letting Nicky suffer so easily.

Booker sucks in a rattling breath and Andy locks her phone and puts it back in her pocket. She scans the office; there's surprisingly little blood. Nothing that will get the police called until the cleaning staff see it and by then, it'll be Copley's problem. If it is a problem. This little office is cheap and easily cleaned. The rental company will keep his deposit and likely call it even. No cameras, she knows, which is the important thing.

She crosses to stand over Booker.

"Get up," she says. He groans. "Get up and wipe your face."

He staggers as he rises. A lingering concussion, most likely. Andy pushes him back against the wall with two fingers digging into the pressure point just below his clavicle. Booker chokes again.

"We are going back to the safehouse," she tells Booker in a low, dangerous tone. "You get to stay exactly as long as it takes you to apologize to Nicky. Then you are going to the other house where you will stay until we decide what to do with you. After you apologize, you will not try to see Nicky. You will not try to write him letters or call him on the phone. You will leave Nicky the hell alone until and unless he decides he wants to see you at which point you will apologize again."

Booker's pulse is practically a steady thrum against her fingers. Andy jabs them deeper and a keening moan shudders loose.

"Quỳnh is going to kill you again," she tells him. "I am going to kill you again. Joe is definitely going to kill you. Several times. Possibly Nile is going to kill you. Nicky is not going to kill you because Nicolò is a better and kinder man than any of us deserve so we will probably kill you a few times in his honour."

Booker's head bobs.

"And Booker?" Andy leans in so close that his eyes cross as he tries to focus. "If you _ever_ even _think_ of pulling this shit again?"

"I won't," he rasps. "I wouldn't!"

"Good," she steps back. He falls to the ground. "Get up. You've had enough time to wallow."


	4. As it is in Heaven

The safehouse is bigger than the on-base housing that Nile's whole family grew up in but right now, it feels claustrophobic. Joe and Quỳnh are arguing entirely without words, neither of them paying any attention to her. Joe still has Nicky cradled against his chest and clearly wants to retreat to their room. Quỳnh, equally clearly, doesn't want to let Nicky out of her sight. They glare at each other and Nile retreats into the kitchen. She puts the kettle on for want of anything useful to do.

She doesn't feel like the baby of the group very often these days. Everyone has been so careful to include her. Especially Nicky.

Nile has to swallow the lump in her throat. She peers around the kitchen door. Joe's moved to the sofa, all of his attention on Nicky. He's talking softly, petting Nicky's hair while Quỳnh watches him through narrowed eyes. Nile cranes her neck to see but Nicky doesn't seem to have woken up. She turns away, paces across the worn tiles as she tries to think what to do.

She keeps seeing Nicky's face when Copley had him backed into the corner. She's never seen him look like that and she hadn't wanted to leave him alone but Copley didn't want her to stay. It's such a small thing to feel so shitty over and Christ knows, Nile's going to be feeling shitty about what she's done to Nicky for a long time. She sighs shakily and turns to the cupboards. Nicky likes tea, she thinks. She knows how to make tea for Nicky. She's going to do that.

She checks her phone again. Looks out into the other room. Quỳnh is staring at Nicky. Nile feels the hairs rise on the back of her neck. She sends a quick message to Andy, saying Nicky is still out. She's seen him recover from being blown to pieces faster than this. Is there something else wrong? Nicky is the one who endures. He recovers faster, brushes aside any concern and takes care of the rest of them. Nile doesn't know what to think now.

Nile gets the teapot out of the cupboard and takes four cups from the dishwasher. She takes Nicky and Joe's cups from the tea cupboard and takes the tin of green tea down. She nearly drops it when she turns to find Quỳnh standing right behind her. The other woman moves like a cat. Nile jerks back, hits the counter and has to grab to catch the tin before it hits the floor. Quỳnh doesn't even look at her, all her attention on the teapot. She runs light fingers along the glazed patterns and Nile has to hold onto the tin of tea very tightly until the urge to smack her hands away subsides.

Quỳnh notices. Of course she notices. She glances up at Nile and Nile is viscerally reminded that Quỳnh is not the young woman she appears to be. "This is Nicolò's. Nicky's. This is his."

"Yeah," Nile says tightly. Quỳnh smiles. It isn't the tight, vicious smile that Nile's familiar with it. It's softer, fond almost?

"Wo de dìdì," Quỳnh says. "I taught him that. Yusuf and Andromache always preferred coffee."

"Nicky always makes tea," Nile says. "When we're coming home from a job. When it's been a bad day."

"He is kind," Quỳnh says. "Gentle in a way most of us never were. We used to be better about protecting him."

Nile swallows. She still doesn't know what Copley was talking about. Doesn't _know_. But Joe had gone paler than Nicky and Andy had looked stricken, then murderous in a way that Nile hasn't seen since the church. Nile doesn't need to know the details. She saw Nicky screaming, hurting in a way not even Joe could reach him and she'd wanted to hit Copley. Then she'd wanted to hit Booker, break her knuckles on his face and scream herself hoarse. 

"We should have done better," she says because she's still wondering what if. What if she had gone with them to meet Copley? What if she had checked the gun sooner, seen the betrayal before it happened instead of after? 

"Yes," Quỳnh says simply and the silence hangs between them.

"He missed you," Nile says impulsively. "Nicky. Andy couldn't talk about you. Joe was...he and Booker were dealing with different things."

Quỳnh stares at her and Nile looks down at the tin in her hands. Then Quỳnh's entire focus snaps to the door to the other room and Nile hears Joe's voice change. Nicky's awake. She chases Quỳnh back into the other room. The other woman falters, slows and Nile can just see Joe's head bent over Nicky. She can't hear what he's saying but the tone is loving. Nicky's reply is quieter and he shifts. Joe lifts his head and Nicky sees Quỳnh.

Nile sees Quỳnh's spine straighten, like a Marine in front of the General but her focus is on Nicky's face. He stares, mouth falling open and Nile has to look away from the wonder dawning in his eyes. "Quỳnh?"

"Nicolò," Quỳnh breathes and Nile isn't sure if she moves first or Nicky does but they're hugging and she can't understand Nicky's fervent whispered Italian. Joe's on his feet, one hand still on Nicky's back.

"I'll get the tea," Nile says and flees back to the kitchen. The water's still hot and she spills some of the tea because her hands won't stop shaking.

_Stop it!_ she thinks sharply. _This is_ Nicky _! He's not going to hold any of that shit against you._

She pours the tea, looks for cookies in the empty cupboard to delay for another minute before she picks the cups up and goes out. Quỳnh is still hugging Nicky and Joe is still smiling at them. Nicky's voice isn't even a whisper and his eyes are red when he raises his head at Nile's stilted "I have ...tea?"

"Grazie, Nile," Nicky says and his smile is radiant. Nile swallows hard and tries to smile back but Nicky frowns. "Are you well?"

"Am I-?" Nile chokes on the words and it comes out in something that isn't a laugh or a sob but some fucked-up mix of both. "Am **I** well? Fuck, Nicky!"

Nicky lets go of Quỳnh and reaches for her. Nile puts the cups down. At least she thinks she does but then Nicky's right there and Nile hugs him like she can hide him away from all the things in the world that hurt him. She's crying; big ugly gulps of air and snot everywhere. Nicky's too thin in her arms. She can feel his ribs and the bumps of his spine instead of the solid muscle that should be there.

"I'm sorry," she cries against his neck. "I'm so fucking sorry. Nicky. I'm so so so sorry!"

"Shhh," Nicky lets her weep, soothes her in his broken, shredded voice and Nile hates herself for adding to this. She's so used to it; Nicky as the sure ground underfoot, the safe harbour, the one who always understands. She never even thought of it until today when she saw him break and her sure ground shattered under her feet.

"I'm sorry," Nile says again because she can't remember how to say anything else.

"You are forgiven," Nicky says, drawing back enough that she can see his eyes. Still red, still tired but serene underneath it all. "Always, Nile. You were right. I was not being Christian in blaming Booker for the actions of others."

He says it so matter-of-factly that Nile chokes on her outrage. "No!"

Nicky actually looks surprised. Nile lets go of him only so she can grab his face in her hands and make him look at her. "Nicky, I didn't know. I thought he'd made a mistake and he'd apologized. I thought it was Merrick-"

"It was Merrick," Nicky says. "He was a wicked man."

"I thought it was just signing you up for tests," Nile says. "I thought he fell for the 'gift to humanity' schtick like Copley did. That was still messed up, I'm not saying it wasn't but that was a _mistake_. That was Booker being a complete and total fucking idiot! But that...that was him being _stupid_. Telling Merrick..."

Nicky flinches, eyes closing and Nile's throat closes to keep the ugly tears at bay. She shakes Nicky lightly, waits for him to open his eyes before she continues because he has to hear this, has to understand.

"I didn't understand why you couldn't forgive him for being stupid," she tells him. "You're ...you're so kind, you know? So nice to everyone and I just couldn't see why you couldn't see that he'd been stupid. I didn't realize and that? That's on me. That _is_ my fault."

"No!" Nicky tries to shake his head. "Booker made a mistake. I should not have blamed him for being in despair and trying to escape!"

"Because he wasn't stupid," Nile interrupts. "Well, not _just_ stupid. He told them-" Nicky shudders and Nile shakes her head "-he told them what he told them. That wasn't just stupid. That was _cruel_."

"He did not mean it," Nicky protests and Nile hears a snort. She thinks it was Quỳnh but it might have been Joe.

"He still did it," Nile says and Nicky closes his eyes. "He still gave them those things and they used them to hurt you. That's not just a mistake. That's mean and it's spiteful and it's a whole lot of messed up shit and all of it is bad. That's not something you can just forgive, Nicky."

"I..." Nicky blinks and tears bead on his eyelashes.

"Maybe someday," Nile allows. "Because you're Nicky and you're too kind to everyone else. But he didn't apologise. He didn't try to make this right."

"He didn't know," Nicky argues and Nile takes a deep breath. She doesn't know why she's surprised that she's having to argue with Nicky about this. 

"He knew he'd told them that stuff," she says gently. "Nicky, come on. You wouldn't be so quick to let him off if he'd done this to...to me. Would you really have let him off so easily if he'd done this to Joe?"

Nicky turns his face away and Nile catches a glimpse of Joe's agonized expression. Nile hugs Nicky because he looks so small. Quỳnh's hand brushes her arm as she joins the embrace and Joe chuckles, a strange strangled sound as he wraps his arms around all of them.

"You should listen to Nile, my beloved," he says and Nicky turns blindly towards him. "She is a very wise woman."

Nicky laughs or sobs, she can't tell and Joe presses a kiss against his forehead. His voice is soft when he speaks. "You can take all the time you need, my love. We were fools not to know better but we know now. We are here. _I_ am here. You need not carry this pain alone."

Nicky shakes again but Nile just holds on tighter.

"I can kill him again," Quỳnh offers. She sounds entirely sincere but Nicky laughs. It sounds painful but it's laughter. Quỳnh says something that doesn't sound like any of the languages Nile's trying to learn and Nicky laughs again.

"I know you would, sorella." 

The sound of a key in the door kills his laughter and Nile feels the way Nicky tries to curl in on himself but they all crowd in closer, hugging him tighter in unspoken unison. 

"With you," Joe whispers as if it's only the two of them in the room. "Always, habibi."


	5. So it is Below

The drive to the safehouse is conducted in absolute silence. Sebastien can hear every breath Andrea takes and the unsteadiness of his own breathing. The traffic slows them and he notices a woman in a small silver car double-take at him. He looks down at himself and grimaces. His blood is all over his shirt and there's dried blood all down his face. Sebastien curses himself and twists in his seat.

There are water bottles, wipes and fresh shirts in the back of the car. It's always better to be prepared. Sebastien has to pause, hands shaking when he pulls out the bag because...well, because Nicky packed it. He breathes deep, closes his eyes against the tears and swallows his burning need for a drink. Andrea. No. _Andromache_ is watching him as he sits back into his seat. He thinks idly of what he had told Nile but he has not been afraid to die since he walked out of that infirmary with rags in place of his heart.

If Andromache wishes to kill him again, he will not resist. Nor will he fight when Joe kills him. He does not think that Quỳnh will give him the chance to fight. Nile is still reluctant to kill but probably she will make an exception.

Nicky will not kill him.

Nicky will not kill him unless Sebastien begs for it and Sebastien has no right to ask anything of Nicky. Not ever again.

He scrubs roughly at his face to keep the tears from spilling over. He has not finished weeping. It feels like he will be weeping for the rest of this damned life but he will not burden Nicky with his tears. He is not the drunken, morbid fool who forgot how deeply his brother feels. This guilt is Sebastien's alone. He snaps down the sun-visor to use the small mirror, carefully erasing the signs of the violence done to him. His punishment was and will be justice. He will not allow it to become another cudgel for Nicky to beat himself with.

Andromache is still watching him sidelong as Sebastien rolls up his ruined shirt and stuffs it into the bag that he returns to the back. His eyes are still red, the obvious signs of his grief still obvious and he thinks that Joe could make poetry of that; how their grief lasts longer than mortal wounds. He forces himself not to look away. Andromache says nothing but the silence feels less strained.

Sebastien has to steel his nerves, fingers itching for the flask he'd left in the public bin outside Copley's office, before he can follow Andromache to the door of the safehouse. He feels like he is walking to his wife's deathbed again. He swallows and lets Andromache enter first. He doesn't see Nicky but he does see the others clustered together. He breathes in. 

Nile and Quỳnh yield before Andromache. Joe does not. He stays crowded up against Nicky's back while Andromache embraces him. Booker feels the thump of his heart against his ribs. Nicky is still too pale, his cheekbones sharper than they have been for nearly a century and the red, wet skin around his eyes is a searing reproach. Sebastien reaches for words but he cannot find them. He sways, stumbles forward on legs that no longer want to hold him and Andy releases Nicky. She keeps hold of his hand, turns to put herself beside him with Quỳnh on her other side.

The symbolism is not subtle but Sebastien does not care. His focus is on Nicky. He manages another step before he falls to his knees.

"Nicky, Nicky, désolé," he's crying again. "Nicoló, mon frere...je regrette! Desolé, Nicky, désolé!"

Nicky reaches for him at once. Sebastien did not expect anything less because Nicky is the kindest of them, the sweetest and it is not in him to refuse comfort to one in need. Even if it is Sebastien. The guilt strangles him. He thinks for a moment that he will choke on it. Another useless death. Instead he swallows the weight of his shame and tries to find something other than apologies.

The hand that touches his head is shaking. _Nicky_ 's shaking. Two hundred years and Sebastien's seen his hands shake less than a handful of times. He's the sniper. The steady hands in the worst of the fighting. The tears that pour down his face _burn_ against the raw skin on his cheeks.

"Désolé," he sobs. "Nicky, je regrette tous!"

He looks up, past the arm that Joe has anchored around Nicky's waist, to meet Nicky's red eyes. Nicky is trying to smile, Sebastien thinks and it makes his heart ache. Even now, Nicky reaches out to him. It is hard to believe that he ever forgot how much he was loved. His guilt gnaws at him like the empty hunger of the Russian winter. It is easy to think of Nicky as soft. It is hard to remember that Nicky is soft and kind because he chooses to be soft and kind rather than allow the world to harden his heart. Sebastien has spent too much time with the thugs and brutes of this modern world. He sees with their eyes. He should know better.

Nicky stares at him and the breath he draws sounds painful. His voice is only audible because there is no sound but Sebastien's snivelling. "Why?"

"I was drunk," Booker says. No excuse. "I listened to Copley talk about the wonderful gift we would make to humanity."

Nicky shakes his head. The hand on Booker's shoulders falls away and he feels adrift without it. "Not that. You wished for death. Death before your time. I understand that."

His tone suggests he doesn't. Nicky puts their immortality in the same place he puts his faith in God or Destiny; an ineffable mystery that cannot be understood, only accepted. Nicky's soft heart means the years can be cruel and still, he sees it as an act of Grace. Sebastien still does not understand."

"You had that," Nicky rasps. "For the price of your betrayal, you had that hope. I know this. That is forgiven."

How very like Nicky, Sebastien thinks, to forgive him so easily and offhandedly. None of the others have forgiven him for that. Not completely. Not yet. Maybe not ever after this afternoon's exposé. Joe still watches him when he thinks Booker isn't looking. Andy hesitates before she exposes her back to him. Nicky...well, Sebastien had utterly misunderstood his shyness. 

"Why?" Nicky's voice wavers and the arm around his waist visibly tightens. The hand that was on Sebastien's shoulder comes up to entwine their fingers. Their hands fit together as perfectly as the rest of them. "Why tell them _that_?"

Sebastien swallows. He holds his hands up slowly. "Because I was a fool. Because I was angry and bitter that they saw only a miracle where I saw a pain that I could not end."

He inhales shakily. His damnable pride chokes him for a second but Sebastien will never be worthy of forgiveness if he does not confess it all. "And because, because Copley saw you, you two in particular and he did not think that you would be willing. He was right. I knew that you would never want to be seperated. Andy was weary. I was, feh, maudlin and stupid. You and Joe? You still love your lives. He could see that."

Another swallow. He has to close his eyes, tastes blood and salt on his lips when he licks them. He hates himself for this. How can Nicky not? "But mostly, because I had to convince them that immortality was shit, Nicky. They understood why I wanted an end. They believed Andy wanted an end. You and Joe? It had to be all of us. That man, that _connard_ Keane, he kept pressing about you two and I..."

Sebastien's words fail him. There aren't words for his cowardice and the petty spite that made him keep talking, long after he should have shut his mouth and walked away. He crumples to the floor, sobbing in ugly gulps and it might be a hundred years later before he looks up again.

Nicky looks exhausted but less brittle when Sebastien can focus on him.

"I did not let myself think of it," he concludes. "Not once everything else had happened. I told myself that you did not know. How could you stay if they had told you? You would not stay if you knew, I thought.."

"Spiacente, Book," Nicky whispers and Sebastien swallows again, shaking his head. 

"You don't have anything to apologise for, Nicky!"

"I do," Nicky says simply. Sebastien closes his eyes. He knows that tone. Nicky doesn't have Joe's knack for poetry. Just a gift for devastating sincerety. "You said, in the lab, that Joe and I did not know what it was to be alone."

Nicky half-turns his head, looking back at Joe. "You said it like it was a blessing. It is but that is not the whole story. My heart does not live in my chest. There is no me without Joe."

Joe kisses his neck and the brief glance he spares for Sebastien is seething with rage and hate.

"You and Andy can stand alone," Nicky says. "Joe is not merely my joy. He is my life. I am sorry that we did not explain this and that all you saw of us was our happiness when you were in pain."

Joe would just have stabbed him. And everyone they meets thinks Nicky is the merciful one.

"I cannot forgive you for this," Nicky says bluntly. "Not yet."

Sebastien nods. Nicky reaches out, other hand still clinging to Joe. Sebastien sniffles, eyes raw and his whole face stinging.

"You are still my brother," Nicky tells him. "That does not change."

"Merci, Nicky," Sebastien manages something like a smile.

Joe draws Nicky back, eyes flat and furious and Andy steps between them and Sebastien. Nile is watching him with her arms folded tightly across her chest, disappointment in the crimp of her lips. Quỳnh watches him like a cat watching a mouse. Sebastien forces himself up on wobbling legs and staggers back outside. The tears blind him almost immediately but, for the first time in nearly a century, it feels like relief. He will be apologizing for the next two hundred years but he has hope.

He'd forgotten how that felt.


	6. Forever, Amen

Andromache takes le Livre away before Quỳnh can do more than glare at him. Quỳnh lets her love take the man away without argument. He is a broken man and only a threat to himself. There will be time to discuss his betrayal later. 

For now, Nico needs his family around him. He watches le Livre depart, the hand clasping Yusuf's shaking with the strain. The door closes and he turns into Yusuf's embrace, clutching at his beloved's shirt. Yusuf has an arm around his waist and his other hand combs through Nico's hair as he whispers to his love. His words sing like music and Quỳnh remembers when she and Andromache first found them.

They already had their own language; Ligurian and Arabic mixed with Greek and Latin. It had already been incomprehensible to others, born of the decades that they spent alone except for each other. They use it sparingly in the company of others but she knows the shape of the words. She fell asleep to the music of it across the world. It reminds her of better times, when the world did not exist beyond their campfire and all that she loved was within her reach.

"We should have dinner," their new sister says. Quỳnh does not know her well. Not yet but she thinks she will enjoy her once she has time to learn. She approves of their little sister's courage and Nico adores her. Quỳnh is happy to trust her little brother's heart. Andromache loves her as a little sister and even now, Joe finds a smile for her.

Nico shakes his head without lifting it from the crook of Yusuf's neck. His reply is lost against his love's skin. Yusuf turns his head, pressing a kiss against the crown of Nico's head. 

"Domani," he says, not a question but not quite a demand.

"Si," Nico says, head turning just enough that Quỳnh can hear him. "Spiacente...sono esausto."

Not surprising, Quỳnh thinks. Nico is terrible for swallowing down his emotions. Then, when they boil up, he is left shaken and drained as if purged of a sickness. It seems that this is another of the too-few things that have not changed. She presses a hand against his back, grateful beyond words that he does not flinch away. Instead, she is rewarded with a quicksilver flash of his smile.

"It has been a long day," Quỳnh says carefully. English is still strange in her mouth but their little sister speaks only smatterings of the other languages. It is much changed from the language that still haunts her nightmares.

"Yeah," their sister smiles at her. A thoughtless gesture but also a sign that she getting comfortable with Quỳnh .

"Nicky needs to rest," Yusuf says. Their sister nods and steps a little aside to make room. For both, Quỳnh notes with approval. She has never known Yusuf and Nico to sleep apart unless forced to do so. It is good to see that is still true. Her breath comes a little easier at this reminder that not everything has changed.

Nico is fading even as he loosens his grip enough to turn from Yusuf. Neither of them seem pleased by this; Yusuf's arm stays around Nico's waist and Nico brushes his fingers through Yusuf's beard. The kiss is gentle but neither seems eager to break. Yusuf presses his forehead against Nico's and they breathe together.

"I need to clean up," Nico says eventually. 

"You can use the main bathroom," their sister says. "I'll make some soup."

Quỳnh follows them to the bathroom. Little is private among those who live as long as they and she is not ready to trust Nico's fragile stability. She does not go in. Nico needs Yusuf and he is already trying so hard to be good for them all. Quỳnh lingers just beyond the door, listening without shame to what they are saying.

"My love," Yusuf says in the Arabic of his first life. "My moon and stars. The light of my days and the pulse of my heart. You are the kindest man I have ever known and this unworthy man can only beg for your forgiveness."

She does not hear the words Nico uses, only the soft tone of his voice.

"I was blind," Yusuf's voice is wet. "I did not see your pain and worse, in my pride, I added to it."

"You did what was right," Nico says and Quỳnh 's fist clenches. She is heartened by Yusuf's sputtering fury.

"I welcomed that viper back into our family," he spits. "I should have driven him to the farthest corner of the world where he could not harm anyone but himself! It was folly to forgive him so quickly for what I did know of his treachery."

"He was in pain," Nico says.

"He could have asked for help," Yusuf replies in a tone like granite. "He could have apologized to you in words."

"It would not have ended well," Nico says as if that excuses le Livre for anything. "I could not breathe when he was in the room. I could not trust myself when we were alone so I could not allow us to be alone."

"My eyes are open," Yusuf agrees. "I see it now that I look back. I should have seen it then and there can be no excuse for that."

"His need was greater," Nico says and the sound Yusuf makes in reply is one Quỳnh has only heard on battlefields. "You are too good a man to refuse our brother when he needs you."

The sound of water cuts off the first words of Yusuf's reply but Quỳnh hears the rest of it, Yusuf's voice ringing out like a battle cry. "You are my heart, my greatest charge is to ensure your safety and happiness and I failed _you_! Andy or Nile could have done what I did if I had the wit to look past my own stupidity!"

Nico tries to say something but Yusuf keeps talking.

"I spent my days in darkness, hayati, because you were absent. I can fit my fingers into the spaces between your ribs so little have you eaten. My ears have not heard your laughter in too long. You have suffered and you did not trust me with your pain."

"My love," Nico sounds wretched.

"That is my sin," Yusuf says. "That you, who are my joy and the better part of my soul, could not trust me to protect you when you were so sorely wounded. If we live ten thousand years, my beloved, I can never hope to be forgiven."

"I do not want you to blame yourself!" Nico almost shouts. "You are my heart, Yusuf. I will not let you be hurt. Not even by yourself!"

Quỳnh slips away. She hears her own love's step in the hallway and she is eager to see her. Andromache looks weary to her very bones but there is a light in her eyes that Quỳnh never saw in the disjointed visions that were her only escape from her captivity. Andromache smiles to see her and her lips are dry when Quỳnh kisses her. Her whole body sings at the careful touch of her lover's fingers.

Andromache is so careful of her now. A part of Quỳnh wishes she was not but the greater part of her loves Andromache all the fiercer for her care. She believes there will be time for reckless passion. For now, it is good to be handled with such loving precision.

"Joe and Nicky?" Andromache asks, pressing her forehead against Quỳnh 's as though reluctant to withdraw.

"Bathing," Quỳnh says. "And Yusuf— _Joe_ is apologising."

"Good," Andromache turns her head enough to look up the stairs. "It's been... fucking miserable having them so distant."

"You told me something of this," Quỳnh says, choosing her words with care. Their little sister is in the kitchen, Nico and Yusuf focused on each other and Quỳnh has questions. She would like some answers. "I do not see it now."

"It wasn't..." Andromache sighs. "It was unnatural. I didn't understand it. Nicky...Nico, he wouldn't let me close enough to ask and Joe was so angry... I would have made things worse, I thought. They've never been at odds so long before. I should have known something was wrong but there was Nile, then there was you..."

Quỳnh kisses her and Andromache threads her fingers through her hair to kiss her properly.

"I got distracted," Andromache admits into the humid air between their lips. "Nicky's gotten too good at hiding when he's hurt. I should have seen it."

"You should," Quỳnh agrees. "He was surprised to see me."

Andromache flinches at the weight of her words. "Yes. I should have told him. I would have told him if it had gone on much longer. I thought Joe was going to but he never got the chance."

"He did not take his chance, you mean," Quỳnh 's rage flares for a moment. She wishes for her knives and a way to kill Yusuf that would not wound Nico further. She is very angry with him. Almost as angry as he is.

"No," Andromache sighs again. "He wanted Nicky to come to him. They're both so stubborn and he was still angry over the whole mess with Booker. It was stupid and he's going to hate himself for it for years."

"So I should forgive him?"

"No," Andromache's smile is sad and Quỳnh brushes their lips together to chase the sorrow from that beloved face. "Not because of that. You're going to forgive him because Nicky needs you to."

"Hmm," Quỳnh kisses her again. She is right but Quỳnh is not ready to admit that. Then she kisses Andromache because there are four hundred years of kissing to catch up on. Then Andromache kisses her.

"I got food!" their little sister calls. Nile, Quỳnh corrects herself. Their little sister is Nile.

Nico and Yusuf emerge from the bathroom, hair still damp and both of them looking exhausted. Nico sways into Yusuf, tucking his nose under Yusuf's chin. Yusuf says something soft and loving and Nico's smile is small but real. Neither of them eat any of the soup that Nile made for them. Nico sits in a chair drawn right up beside Yusuf where his love can wrap an arm around his shoulders and murmur in his ear.

After dinner, Yusuf supports Nico up the stairs. He does not say anything when the three of them follow. He is not pleased, Quỳnh thinks, but he is resigned to the fact that none of them are ready to let Nico out of their sight. Nico's eyes are closed and he lets Yusuf steer him towards the wide bed that takes up most of the room. Quỳnh brushes a hand through his hair and Nico smiles sleepily at her.

There is an awkward moment where they try to figure out how they will all fit. Nico sleeps closest to the door, Yusuf behind him and Andromache is still relearning how to share her bed. Nile sleeps like a soldier, wherever and however she can. Quỳnh does not like to be held, the memories of her prison still too raw.

"For fuck's sake," Andromache says at last. 

She takes a seat against the headboard and pulls a pillow into her lap. Nico allows her to draw his head to rest on the pillow and Yusuf fits himself against Nico's back, not even a hairsbreadth between them. Quỳnh settles on her side in front of Nico. His eyes flutter open but he only blinks sleepily at her. Quỳnh reaches out to take the hand Yusuf is not already holding and wind their fingers together so she can feel Nico's warmth and the steady beating of his heart. Nile hesitates but eventually she crawls over their feet to slot in just behind Yusuf. She crooks her elbow over Yusuf's hip so she can get hold of Nico's shirt. Her fingers brush the skin of his belly.

Nico smiles and it could be a thousand years ago, when she and Andromache had found their little brothers and Quỳnh had learned that her heart was not too scarred from the loss of Lykon to love her new brothers. She smiles back and Nico squeezes her fingers before his eyes close again.

Quỳnh can feel the warmth of his breath, the sound of Andromache stroking through his hair and she finds that she is tired too, her own eyes refusing to stay open. Nile's breathing deepens, takes on a faintly nasal note and Quỳnh feels some of the day's tension drain away.

She's nearly asleep when she hears Yusuf's voice, low so as not to rouse Nico. "A year, Andy. At least."

Andromache hums in response, neither a yes nor a no.

"A year," Yusuf repeats.

"You can have a month," Quỳnh says, lifting her head enough to see the protective fury in Yusuf's eyes. "Two weeks and then we will visit."

Yusuf looks torn. His instinct has always been to hide Nico away from the world when something like this happens. Nico needs quiet to set his turbulent emotions aside and he is thoughtless of his own wellbeing while he does so. Yusuf is the best remedy to Nico's suffering. Quỳnh can even admit it to herself.

"A month," he agrees begrudgingly. "And a year before you even think of bringing us a job."

"Fair," Andromache strokes Nico's hair.

"Agreed," Quỳnh reaches up to curl the fingers of her free hand around Andromache's leg. She yawns and gives up on trying to keep her eyes open. The bed is soft, the room is warm and her family are safely sleeping within her arms. She sleeps and the dreams that come are soft and leave no terror in their wake.

* * *

"For two, please," James says and the harried waitress tries to argue that he should take one of the booths inside where a slow fan churns the air. "The patio is fine."

Malta is a small enough place that he's recognized; one of the baristas waving at him and James smiles. He's enjoying the sun. The UK is weathering another frigid spring and he's old enough that he aches in the mornings. He orders a cappuccino and one of the hazelnut biscotti before he checks his phone. There's no new messages so he settles back in his chair and watches the crowd swirling past on the other side of the café's tables. 

He hasn't been sitting there for more than five minutes when he sees the ripple of turning heads. Nicky emerges from the crowd and James rises to his feet. He's already been seen, of course, and he studies Nicky as he approaches.

The other man looks good; better than James has ever seen him, he thinks. He's lost the pallor and put back on some much-needed weight. The sun has bleached his hair, grown almost past his jaw and currently falling in his face. He's wearing a beard now rather than the scruffy stubble he had when James saw him last but it is the looseness in his shoulders and the quiet joy in his eyes that James lingers on.

"James!" Nicky disregards the hand James offers by habit and hugs him.

"Nicky," he says and hugs him back. 

"How have you been?" Nicky asks as he takes the seat opposite him. From anyone else, it would be a platitude but Nicky listens to James complain about his flight and the new tenant in the flat below his in London who has been failing to learn the trombone with a smile. He only interrupts long enough to order his own coffee and two biscotti.

"Joe likes them," he says when James looks questioningly at him. "He was working on his painting last night and I think he would like a treat."

James nods and scans the crowd. He doesn't see Joe but he knows the other man is there by the way Nicky's eyes flick away from him every now and again. There's something in Nicky that shines when Joe is near. James is glad to see it. If Nicky and Joe are together, all is right with the world. He thinks, inevitably, of Amelia but the memories are happy. He wishes he could have introduced them, wishes she could have known that love can outlast a millenium of war and pain and wishes she'd known that there was hope.

Nicky asks more questions and James does his best to answer. They both skirt any questions about work. Nicky knows the ladies have started on jobs again but he doesn't ask for any details. James does tell the story of how he'd had to cover up Andy hijacking a top-secret military jet because her job had run over and she was that eager to get back to Quỳnh .

"She trusts you," Nicky tells him with a smile.

"I'm flattered," James says honestly before he cracks a rueful smile. "I could do without the 3am wake-up calls."

"Andy is a force of nature," Nicky says. "Mere time cannot constrain her."

James laughs and the conversation drifts. Nicky talks about Joe because Nicky is always happy to talk about his beloved. That's how James thinks of them. 'Husband' doesn't fit and 'partner' borders on insulting. They're two halves of a whole but genuinely loving in a way that makes James think of Amelia and how much brighter the world had been with her to illuminate it. He waits until Nicky has finished telling him the story of Joe rescuing a lost collie pup before he asks.

"How are you, Nicky?"

"Bene." Nicky's smile dims a fraction but he meets James' eyes steadily. "The dreams have almost stopped. I do not fear that I will wake alone, in a lab with that doctor standing over me. I can eat a whole meal. I do not flinch when Joe touches me before I see him."

"That's good," James dares to pat his hand. "I'm glad to hear it."

"I meant to thank you by the way," Nicky pushes the hair back from his face. "For setting up the email?"

"Happy to help," James says. He picks at his napkin. "I was surprised when you asked for it."

"I am not ready to see Booker," Nicky says, reading his intent. "Not in person. I was very angry at him and I blamed him more than I should have for what happened."

"I think you're entitled to blame him as much as you want," James says.

"Joe would agree," Nicky says with a faint smile. "I am angry at him for telling them but he did not dream that Keane and his men would use that information the way they did. I know that but I spent a long time blaming him for that. It is hard to let go of the anger. I do not wish to be angry at him for the things that were not his doing."

"I can understand that," James remembers Andy telling him that Nicky was the sweetest of them. Typical understatement, he thinks. "I don't think I could let go of my anger like that but I understand what you're saying."

"We have a very long time to address this matter," Nicky says. "I would rather do it right than rush it."

"What does Joe think?"

"Joe is still furious," Nicky says with a shrug. "It will pass. He has the kindest heart of any man I've known and he is too good to blame Booker for long."

"Uh-huh," James says. He's not sure about that. He's only spoken to Joe a handful of times but he's pretty sure Joe's going to be furious at Booker for the next thousand years at least. James is barely at the point where he can hold a civil conversation with the man and he was practically a stranger to Nicky when he found out what had happened.

"Joe is sulking a little," Nicky says and James allows him the subject change. Quỳnh is visiting apparently. James hadn't known that. He's not surprised. She hides her tracks very well but if he was interested in finding her, he'd stake out Andy or Nicky. She's been visiting frequently and Nicky confides that she misses them.

"I'm not surprised," James says and Nicky smiles.

"It is not like Joe and me," he says. "We have never been separate. When it was just the four of us, we would separate for decades at a time. There was always more work and it made sense to divide our forces. Still, we preferred to be together if we could."

"I can't imagine," James says. "A thousand years..."

"Sometimes we needed space but mostly we were happier together," Nicky smiles and drinks the last of his coffee. 

James looks up, surprised to see the sun sinking towards the horizon. When he looks back, Joe has materialized out of the evening crowd to loop his arms over Nicky's shoulders. Nicky has tipped his head back to kiss him, both of them smiling. James clears his throat and counts out enough euros to cover the coffees. Nicky breaks the kiss to offer Joe the biscotti which is joyfully accepted. Joe nods to James, munching loudly.

"Copley."

"Joe," James says. Joe continues to look at him, arms still comfortably draped over Nicky's shoulders. They're not even looking at each other but they're both glowing all the same. James isn't sure what Joe's looking for; he doesn't usually join Nicky on these visits. 

"We're having dinner soon," Joe says at last. "You're welcome to join us. Quỳnh 's cooked enough for four."

James blinks. "I'd love to."

"Good," Joe swallows the last of his biscotti and bends to kiss Nicky again before he lets his beloved rise from his seat. "I hope you like rice. And lamb."

"I do, as it happens," James rises to his feet and lets them lead him away down the street. Joe keeps an arm around Nicky's shoulders as he and James talk about the best place to get lamb kebabs in London. Nicky's arm is looped around Joe's waist and every now and again, he leans his head on Joe's shoulder to kiss his neck. Joe presses absent kisses against the side of Nicky's face between sentences. The love between them shows in everything they do. It's overwhelming.

James has to look away for a second to regain his composure as they walk up the road. After Merrick, when Andy brought her family to see his research, they had been far more reserved. It feels like he's intruding on something entirely private just by being here. He can't fathom what it would be like to spend centuries around them. It explains a lot about Booker, James admits. He's glad he didn't see them like this until his grief for Amelia had settled a little. It would have been so easy to hate them.

Nicky says something into Joe's ear that makes the other man sputter. Joe launches into a passionate speech, mixing a least a dozen languages and gesturing wildly with his free arm. Nicky laughs at him and Joe's whole face lights up even as he tries to continue the argument. Nicky shakes his head and turns to look at James.

"You agree, don't you, James?" Nicky's smile is like sunlight. 

"I didn't catch any of that," James admits. 

"Ha!" Joe kisses the tip of Nicky's nose and grins at the face Nicky pulls. "I will explain in English and he will understand why saffron is the best choice!"

James lets them draw him into the conversation. Nicky is still teasing Joe, both of them still smiling and stealing kisses as Joe tries to explain the argument. Both still radiant but freely sharing that warmth with him. James laughs more than he's laughed in the last month and Nicky's smile doesn't falter the whole way home.

**Author's Note:**

> For [this Kinkmeme prompt](https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1106.html?thread=174418&posted=1#cmt885842)


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